


Want Fries With That?

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Hates Witches, First Kiss, M/M, Sharing a Bed, figuring it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-14 21:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: Dean slapped his hand against the steering wheel. “How the hell did she get away?”From the passenger seat, Cas sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “As I’ve said numerous times, I don’t know.”“She was right there in front of you. You should’ve taken her out before she poofed out of sight.”Cas pulled out his trusty air quotes. “The only reason she was ‘right in front of’ me is because you missed your shot when she was on the other side of the room.”There was no denying that, but having the truth pointed out made Dean want to deny it even harder.  “Yeah well...you know witches aren’t my thing,” he concluded lamely.“What is your thing?” Cas muttered.“You got something to say to me?” Dean took his eyes off the road for longer than was advisable to glare at Cas, who merely crossed his arms in front his chest and refused take the bait.“Watch the road.”





	Want Fries With That?

**Author's Note:**

> What a delightful little challenge this has been! Pure perfection from inspiration to reality! If I could give the mods smol medals, I would. 
> 
> Collaborating with [CluelessAkemi](https://cluelessakemi.tumblr.com/) is one of my favorite things in life and I'm so happy we were able to pull this off!

Dean slapped his hand against the steering wheel. “How the hell did she get away?”

From the passenger seat, Cas sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “As I’ve said numerous times, I don’t know.”

“She was right there in front of you. You should’ve taken her out before she poofed out of sight.”

Cas pulled out his trusty air quotes. “The only reason she was ‘right in front of' meis because _you_ missed your shot when she was on the other side of the room.”

There was no denying that, but having the truth pointed out made Dean want to deny it even harder. “Yeah well...you know witches aren’t my thing,” he concluded lamely.

“What _is_ your thing?” Cas muttered.

“You got something to say to me?” Dean took his eyes off the road for longer than was advisable to glare at Cas, who merely crossed his arms in front his chest and refused to take the bait.

“Watch the road.”

Just before the witch had disappeared, she’d lobbed something at them. As Dean was still making his way back toward Cas, she’d had to choose between the two of them and, perhaps in a moment of indecision, whatever curse or hex or nasty witch business she’d intended had landed somewhere in the middle. Maybe they’d both come into contact with a few sparks and wisps of smoke, but over an hour had passed since then and nothing untoward had happened.

Although, Dean considered, maybe this lingering irritability was a residual effect. Or  _maybe_ Cas was just really fucking annoying. He did have a tendency to act superior, flaunting his stupid millennia of life experience like it somehow made him smarter than Dean. And yeah, ok, in a lot of ways it did, but there were still some things Dean could teach him like...things. Things like how to be respectful of someone who was doing his best to not get their asses killed by a stupid witch, for one. Still itching for a fight, he glanced around the Impala, spying the empty bag left over from their trip to the drive thru. “And don’t leave your trash in my car,” he said, as if he were continuing a conversation they’d been having about it. After he’d been nice enough to stop for food, Cas had thanked him by pointing out his rude manners. All right, maybe he hadn’t said that exactly, but by saying that Dean was going to choke if he kept taking such large bites he might as well have. At least Dean could finish his food quickly and get them back on the road instead of dragging out a single meal the way Cas did.

Cas gave him a full-on eye roll. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of defiling your precious baby.”

_I think we were hit by whatever the witch threw at us_ , Dean wanted to say. _I think it’s why we’re both so crabby_. Instead he found himself making a noise that sounded suspiciously like  _harumph_.

They drove the rest of the way in chilly silence. They’d be back to the bunker soon. Sam was helping Claire with a case and wouldn’t be home until the following day which meant Dean could wash this clusterfuck of a day off of him and have some peace and quiet in his room. The thought of that respite was enough for him to swallow down his lingering irritation. Honestly, Dean deserved a medal for biting his tongue and not mentioning the many things Cas did that bugged him. Like leaving his coffee cup on the kitchen counter when the sink was _right there,_ or never realizing that his tie was backwards so that Dean always had to turn it for him, or sitting there and never acknowledging that Dean had once called him _devastatingly handsome_ , or...anyhow.  

He conveniently ended that train of thought as he pulled the Impala into the garage. It seemed that Cas had a similar plan to extract himself because he was reaching for the door handle before the car was fully stopped. Watching him move away so quickly made the irritation flare again.

“Hey, I said don’t leave your trash in the car.”

Filled with righteous outrage, Dean reached for the crumpled bag that lay in passenger footwell, just as Cas turned back to get it. When their hands brushed, there was a sudden loud crack followed by a flash of light, and they found themselves transported.

“What the—” Dean said, reaching for his weapon as he tried to get his bearings. Cas was immediately beside him, preparing for battle as well. They seemed to be in some sort of dark cavern or cave, everything black except for a craggy white cliff that extended over their heads. “Where are we?”

They waited, listening for any sign of imminent danger, but when nothing materialized, they began to take stock of their surroundings. The ground was was black and ridged, and while nothing natural seemed to grow anywhere, there was something oddly familiar about it. Maybe it was the scent filling the air, the scent of something delicious cooking. Dean peered into the darkness as Cas moved toward the base of the cliff. “I feel like I’ve been here before,” Dean said softly, not wanting to attract any attention their way.

“Dean,” Cas said. “I don’t think we’ve gone anywhere.”

Huffing a breath, Dean turned to face him. “Of course we have Cas. We were in the car and now we’re….” he trailed off as Cas pressed a hand to the cliff and it made the unmistakable sound of paper crinkling.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Moving out from under the “cliff” Dean could see that Cas was right. The angle was all wrong, but they were definitely still inside the Impala which was still definitely parked in the garage. But the two of them had been shrunken down to a size that left the seat towering above them.

“Let’s not panic,” Cas said, in that infuriatingly calm tone.

“Why would I panic, Cas? Just because that fucking witch turned us into shrinky dinks? We’re trapped here, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Dean was definitely starting to panic.

“All true, but we’re safely in the bunker, which will keep us protected. And Sam will be home tomorrow, should this last.”

They were valid points and a good ones, but it didn’t stop Dean from sneering. “Fat lotta good that does us now.”

“Perhaps our phones still work.”

Silently, Dean pointed upwards where he could glimpse the shiny edge of his still full-sized phone high above them on the seat. Cas patted his own pockets. “I have mine.” He pulled it out and tapped on the screen. It looked perfectly scaled to size in his hand, and that caused Dean to turn his back on Cas and pat his own crotch as discreetly as he could. Ok, everything still seemed proportional at least. “However, it’s dead.”

Dean whirled back around. “How do you let your phone die?”

“How do you not have a charger in your car?”

“Ok, now is not the time for this discussion.” Ignoring Cas’s raised eyebrow, he asked. “What are we going to do?”

Cas plopped down onto the ground—er, floor mat. “It appears we wait.”

“That’s dumb,” Dean muttered, but he sat down as well.  

They sat silently for awhile until Dean’s stomach rumbled.

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” Dean said. “Besides, you got a magic way to mojo us food?”

Cas shook his head sadly and Dean mentally kicked himself for reminding him of his failing grace. “But there may be some things left in here.” Getting to his feet,  Cas reached both arms up over his head, attempting to pull the bag down far enough to access the opening. Dean stood to help and together they tugged the bag into such a position that they could look into it. To Dean’s amazement, Cas dropped to his hands and knees and crawled inside. “A-ha!”

He came back out holding one of those overdone ends of a fry, the kind that gets left in the bottom of the holder. At their regular sizes, it would’ve been just an overlooked bite or two, but currently Cas needed both arms to hold it. He offered it to Dean so hopefully that Dean forgot his earlier petulance and took it. It felt awkward with Cas watching him, but he managed to break off a few bites to eat. “You want some?”

“No, thank you.”

“Uh, I’ll just put it back for later, I guess.” Clutching it to his chest he hunched over and walked into the bag, the paper noisy under his feet. Inside was a crumpled burger wrapper and some old napkins. He looked around at a bit of a loss, then placed it back into the empty cardboard fry sleeve. Wiping his greasy hands on his jeans, he ventured back out again.

With some food in his belly, he felt better. Cas was right; there was nothing left to do but wait this out. They were as safe as they could be until the curse wore off or Sam came home. It might take him a while to find them, but there was no way he wouldn’t know something was wrong with the car there and the two of them nowhere to be seen. The floor mat wasn’t that comfy, but at least they were relatively warm, dry, and out of the elements. In an attempt to make up for his earlier snark, Dean worked to put a pleasant look on his face, but it seemed that Cas wasn’t buying it. He started at Dean with his head tilted, like he was seeing him for the first time.

“What?” Maybe another phase of the curse was kicking in. Dean put his hands to his face to see if it was melting or something.

Cas leaned forward, his eyes laser-focused on Dean. As he got closer, Dean lost the ability to think about anything other than how blue his eyes were and whether or not his chapped lips would be dry against his own. Cas moved even closer, directly into Dean’s personal space then reached up a hand to the side of his face.

Dean forgot how to breathe.  

He drew his hand away again, this time with something in it. “You had a sesame seed in your hair.”

Dean coughed to cover up the rush of air from his lungs. “Thanks,” he said a bit gruffly, then moved to put some distance between them.

*

“We should try to get some rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Dean insisted.

“You’ve yawned three times in the past two minutes.”

Dean was exhausted. He’d gotten antsy and convinced Cas to help him try to get up onto the seat to see if he could still work his phone. Even with Cas giving him a boost (and that wasn’t awkward at all, to have his hands on Cas’s shoulders as Cas tried to lift him, his face basically level with Dean’s crotch), it had proven to be an impossible task. Never before had Dean regretted his decision to keep the leather seats so well-polished, as his tiny hands slipped again and again. He’d tried to parkour himself up using the door panel, but that had ended in him making very little progress other than falling spectacularly on his ass. Cas had the decency not to laugh, but Dean had no doubt he'd wanted to.

So, yeah, between the battle with the witch, the hours of driving, and the stress of being like two fucking inches tall, Dean was tired. But thus far, he’d been completely useless in this situation. He knew one way to try and make up for it. “You get some rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“Watch for what? We’ve already established that being here in the bunker is the safest place we could be.”

“I don’t know! In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re tiny. A rat or something?”

Cas looked at him cooly. “Do you believe that a rat lives in your car?”

“No,” Dean mumbled. “Because I make sure nobody leaves any trash in it.”

Cas opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it. “Fine. I’m going to bed.” With that, he crawled back inside the bag.

Dean sat on the little ledge where the footwell met the passenger door. It wasn’t comfortable in the least, but he wasn’t here to be comfortable. He was here to keep watch. He tried to pretend he wasn’t tired and cold, and comforted himself with the thought that at least Cas didn’t have to deal with him for a bit. Not that the bag would make for much of a mattress, but Cas could rest and, even if the barrier between them was literally paper-thin, he’d have a break from Dean continuously managing to make every situation worse.

But, if the near-constant crinkling from his tossing and turning was any indication, Cas wasn’t getting much rest. Minutes passed with Dean wondering what on earth he could be doing in there and just as he was about to check on him, his dark head popped out from the bag. “Are you sure you aren’t tired?”

Dean started to double down on his refusal, but Cas was grinning at him in an altogether confusing way. “Why?”

“Come see.”

Dean hopped down from his perch to peer inside the bag. Cas had rearranged the contents, turning the french fry sleeve so that it lay flat and lining the interior of it with clean napkins. Placed in front of it to form a perfectly sized pillow was an unopened ketchup packet.

Cas watched him, face a little unsure now as he waited for his reaction. “That looks awesome,” Dean said, gratified both by giving a truthful response and the way Cas’s smile returned.

“Get in.”

Backing away, Dean held up a hand. “Oh no, I’m fine. You take the first shift in there.”  It would be an all-night shift because Cas needed the rest. The fact that he had to sleep now scared the shit out of Dean, and the last thing he was going to do was interfere with that. He’d do whatever it took to make sure Cas got what he needed.

By the way Cas folded his arms across his chest, Dean knew that was the wrong response. Again.

“I’m not sleeping unless you do.”

“Cas.”

But Cas walked away and sat down on the hard footwell. The bags under his eyes cast shadows across his face and he swayed slightly, clearly done in from the exertion of making the bed.

“Fine,” Dean said, a little more harshly than he intended, but it covered up the pounding of his heart as he sat down and took off his boots. Mollified, Cas slipped out of his own shoes and stood to join him. “Uh.” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, not sure of the proper etiquette in this situation, but Cas just crawled into the bed, sliding over to leave room for Dean. Keeping his head turned away so that Cas wouldn’t see his flushed face, Dean got in beside him. The bed was warm and surprisingly soft and his aching muscles began to relax now that he finally had a place to stretch out. Even the ketchup packet made for a comfortable pillow. It was no memory foam, but it would do just fine.

Maybe even better than fine, since never once had he been able to lie on his regular bed with Cas there beside him. When he finally braved a glance at him, Cas was lying flat on his back with his eyes closed.

“This was really smart,” Dean said softly, in case he was already asleep. “You did good.”

Cas rolled to face him, blue eyes shining at the praise. “Thank you, Dean.”

Coward that he was, Dean shut his eyes. He couldn’t sleep, though. Cas was so close. Close enough to reach out and touch all night long. With Cas asleep, he could watch the way his chest moved with each breath. He could study the curl of dark lashes against his cheek. Dean wanted to smooth the hair back from his forehead but instead he curled his hand into a fist and kept it safely by his side.

Maybe if things had been different. Maybe if Dean had been different.

When Cas stirred in his sleep, shifting so that his arm brushed Dean’s, he let himself rest his fingertips on Cas’s wrist. With Cas’s warm skin against his own, Dean finally fell asleep.

*

He awoke to blaring sound, loud and sudden enough to make him jump. Well, it would have if he weren’t pinned down by something large and solid and warm. Before he could completely gather his senses, he discovered the source of the noise. Sam, his hair falling into his face, was leaning into the open driver’s side door, grinning at him with one hand on the horn. “You two good?”

That’s when Dean realized he was full-sized again. As was Cas. Cas, who was currently lying on top of him on the front seat. Cas’s face was buried in the crook of Dean’s neck and Dean had both arms wrapped around him.

“There was a witch,” Dean tried to explain, but Cas made a small sound of displeasure at the noise, so he stopped talking. Cas responded by snuggling closer. Without meaning to, Dean tightened his embrace.

“Of course there was,” Sam responded in a stage whisper. “Bye.” He closed the car door quietly and Dean could hear his footsteps as he left the garage.

There was definitely not room for two full grown men in the front seat of the Impala. Dean’s neck ached and the steering wheel had to be digging into Cas’s leg. Dean knew his back was going to be sore for days, but still, he lay there for a long time, feeling Cas’s heart beat against his. His hair smelled faintly of french fries and Dean wanted to burrow his nose in it. Eventually, Cas woke, dragging his stubble against Dean’s neck as he did. He lifted his head to look around and Dean saw on his face the exact moment awareness dawned.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas said, shifting. He tried to get some leverage to sit up, but they were tangled together too tightly.

_Maybe now_ , Dean thought.

“Don’t be,” he said, holding him just where he was. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

He felt Cas relax in his arms. It spoke of trust and contentment, and it gave Dean the last bit of courage he needed to kiss him.


End file.
